


We talked about making it, I’m sorry that you never made it

by insxne



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Blood, Boys In Love, Character Death, Crank - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 07:08:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14350446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insxne/pseuds/insxne
Summary: And he wants to say « there are monsters in my head, please make them go away » but he points a gun at the boy he loves and threatens to shoot.





	We talked about making it, I’m sorry that you never made it

**Author's Note:**

> Title inspired from wires by the neighbourhood

__**We talked about making it**   
**I'm sorry that you never made it**   
**And it pains me just to hear you have to say it**   
**You knew the game and played it**   


- wires, the neighborhood 

 

 

_When did I become like this ?_

Newt wonders. He wonders what could possibly happen to change him, the second-in-command, the quiet and reasonable boy, to become this… Blood-thirsty monster. This barely human creature flickering between sanity and insanity. He’s losing his mind, he knows it. And he knows there’s no going back. It’s not like his fall. No one is going to find him and bring him back, no one is going to save him.

He’s already far away. He’s already gone.

But they think there’s still a way to save him. His… Friends.

_It’s getting harder to remember their faces, their voices and the fact that they were his friends._

They think there’s still a chance for him to survive this, but, truly, Newt was never supposed to survive. He was supposed to die back in the maze, when he had climbed up the vines and hoisted himself up the wall and jumped off it.

He was supposed to die the day he was born in the most awful world, not immune to the worst virus hell could ever dream of.

And he was going to die. There was no going back now. He was going to die, because he trusted Tommy to kill him. Tommy would do it, he knew he would.

So, as he looks at his shaky hand wright on the piece of paper, he finds himself overwhelmed by a not so unfamiliar feeling : pain. His knees go weak, and he has to grip at the table to stop himself from falling on the floor. Voices are whispering in his ears, but he can’t distinct what they’re saying, but he thinks he knows.

_It’s over._

And insanity is slipping from his fingers, slowly, so slowly it’s driving him crazy. He wants it to be over already. The constant and growing itching in his mind makes him want to crush his head against a wall.

Maybe he should do so. He wouldn’t have to wait for Tommy, dear, sweet Tommy to put a freaking bullet inside of his head.

But he trusts him. That’s the only thing he’s sure of right now. Tommy won’t let him down.

Because Tommy loves him, right ?

And Newt loves him back. In spite of everything, in spite of the cruel world they live in, in spite of they’ve been through, in spite of Newt’s issues and troubled mind, Tommy loves him and Newt loves Tommy. In spite of everything, they love each other, and maybe this is the worst thing. Worse than the virus, worse than the scorch, worse than the maze. Because it means in the end one of them will be dead.

_It means in the end both their hearts will be broken and there’s not a single thing he can do about that._

And, lying in the silence of the berg, loneliness so thick around him it feels like he’s breathing smoke, he wonders what life would be like, if none of this would’ve happened.

He shouldn’t think about what life they could’ve had, he shouldn’t think about how happy they could’ve been. It doesn’t help. It serves to nothing. Because, in the end… He’ll be dead.

Tears roll down his cheeks, hot and wet on his skin, as if he was drowning from the inside and water had finally filled him completely, and flowed down by the only opening they could pass by of his empty body.

He wishes Tommy was here, but he can’t be selfish. The boy has more important thing than take care of a half-mad friend, things like escaping WICKED, saving everyone.

Everyone but him.

He doesn’t really know when it happened. He doesn’t know when he stopped being human and started being a crank, and he thinks it must be the same thing for everyone around him here.

His mind is clouded and he barely remembers anything but the constant need to kill. And he can’t control it. He can’t control his own mind, his own body, and it feels like someone else takes in charge and locks him away, and he’s standing inside of an invisible cell, begging for whoever in his body to let him go, and he punches his fists against an inexistent door until they’re bleeding.

(The worst part is that his hands really are bleeding, and he knows it has nothing to do with him punching an imaginary door.)

When he’s finally free, he falls onto his knees, shaking uncontrollably, sobs tearing his throat, surrounded by ashes and blood.

Maybe his. Maybe the dead body in front of him’s.

He’s not sure of anything anymore.

————  
  
“Take it” he snarls, voice shaky and angry and begging. Thomas is looking at him with wide and concerned eyes, but he’s not doing any move to take Newt’s letter, so Newt takes a step forward, grabs his hand and folds the letter in it. “Put it in your pocket.”

Thomas, looking perplexed, obeys, and he asks Newt what it is, and Newt wants to tell him, he wants to cry and scream and, and…

He snaps his fingers in front of Thomas’s face to force him to look at him. The runner looks up at him, brown eyes staring back at him with a mix of sadness and fear. Newt sees himself back in those eyes, and he doesn’t like what he sees.

“You have to promise me something” he says. “Promise me you won’t open this until it’s the right moment.”

“The right moment ?” Thomas repeats. “How will I know when it’s..”

“Oh, trust me, you will know !” Newt interrupts him. The fear is overwhelming him, threatening to surpass him, because deep down he’s terrified. Deep down he’s terrified of waking up one day and wanting to kill everything and everyone, of becoming one of them. “Promise me !” He repeats, shaking.

Maybe deep down he doesn’t really want to die.

“Okay, I promise !” Thomas explains, and it makes Newt calm down. That’s it. His faith is sealed.

Newt feels strangely calm. Something is certainly wrong with him, to be so calm about his own death.

“Alright” he says, regaining his breath. “Keep that promise or I’ll never forgive you.”

_Kill me. If you’ve ever been my friend, kill me._

There was a boy. He remembers that.

The man under him is screaming in terror, but Newt can’t find himself to care. The screams only make him angrier; it’s just making the itching even more uncomfortable.

The boy had warm brown eyes and dark hair. He remembers they were soft under his fingers. He remembers he called the boy Tommy.

His hand find a big, hard stone, and next thing he knows he’s smashing it endlessly on the head of the man.

“Tommy, Tommy, Tommy loves me, loves me !” He chants endlessly.

The screams grow louder and more painful, until they become weaker, and the man finally goes quiet.

There’s red everywhere, like red roses spread all around him. He wants to pick up one to give it to Tommy, but every time he tries to, the roses slip between his fingers like it’s liquid.

  
  
Newt’s insides are screaming in pain, and it’s like there’s something in him squirming endlessly in him, crying and screaming. Tommy and Minho are here, reaching out at him, but the other person inside of his body doesn’t let him take their hand so he curls up on himself, tears streaming on his face.

“Come with us” Minho begs, and Newt wants to say yes and go to them and hug them, but he’s a crank now. It’s not like before, it’ll never be.

He can’t hurt them. He can’t let them see him losing his mind.

So he gets angry and yells at them, tells them to go. He tells Tommy the boy disgusts him. It’s a lie, it’s burning him alive, because he loves Tommy so much.

He wants to tell there are monsters in my head please make them go away but he points a gun at the boy he loves instead and threatens to shoot.

 

_I didn’t want this. I didn’t want any of this._

 

Thomas is in front of him, but Newt can’t make the distinction between him and the other person in his body, and he feels so angry, so angry.

“Hey. Newt. It’s me, Thomas. You still remember me, right?”

Newt wants to laugh and cry. Of course he remembers him, how could he ever forget about his Tommy ? How could Tommy ever think Newt could forget him ?

He wants to tell him that, to tell him to kill him, that there’s no going back, but instead he opens his mouth and says :

“I bloody remember you, Tommy. You just came to see me at the Palace, rubbed it in that you ignored  
my note. I can’t go completely crazy in a few days.”

He’s sobbing inside of himself. His mind is a mess of “I love him” and “I want to die” and “please end this”. He hears Thomas speak.

“Newt, come with me this time, right now. We can take you somewhere safer, somewhere better to …”

And it makes Newt laugh, because, doesn’t he understand ? Doesn’t he understand that Newt is already gone ? That there is no fucking cure ?

“Get out of here, Tommy. Get away.”

He wants him to understand. And if Thomas isn’t going to kill him, then he should go before Newt becomes insane and kills him. 

But Tommy has never understood. He still doesn’t, and Newt wants to scream at him to run. 

“Just come with me,” Thomas begs. “I’ll tie you up if it makes you feel better.”

Anger overwhelms him suddenly, hatred and burning love towards the boy in front of me. Towards the boy he wants so desperately to be killed by. “Just shut up, you shuck traitor! Didn’t you read my note? You can’t do one last, lousy thing for me? Gotta be the hero, like  
always? I hate you! I always hated you!”

I trusted you, he whispers in his head. I trusted you, and you failed me. How could you do this to me ? 

“I hate you, Tommy!” He yells, letting the other person taking control and saying those awful, awful things. “I hate you I hate you I hate you! After all I did for you, after all the freaking klunk I  
went through in the bloody Maze, you can’t do the one and only thing I’ve ever asked you to do! I can’t  
even look at your ugly shuck face!”

He sees Thomas take a few steps back, and he’s happy and sad at the same time, because Tommy, his Tommy, is afraid of him. _Him_.

But Thomas is asking him for a chance, because he is still not getting it, he’s still not getting that it’s over, that Newt was meant to die since the day he was born. 

So Newt screams and rushes forward, tackling Thomas on the ground, pining him down under him. He doesn’t know what he’s doing anymore : it’s his hands, but he doesn’t know who is controlling them. Is it him ?

“I tried to kill myself in the Maze. Climbed halfway up one of those bloody walls and jumped right off. Alby found me and dragged me back to the Glade right before the Doors closed. I hated the place,Tommy. I hated every second of every day. And it was all … your … fault!” 

Anger is pursuing through his veins like poison. It makes him want to cut his wrists out to evacuate whatever the shuck is burning him.

His hands grip at Tommy’s shirt. A part of him wants to caress his face and hold him and kiss him, and another part wants to circle his neck and squeeze and strangle him.

Everything gets unclear and unfocused, and next thing he knows he’s pressing a gun against his own head, yelling at Thomas to kill him, pressing Thomas’s hand around the weapon, wishing he would pull the trigger. 

“I can’t, Newt, I can’t.”

Newt wants to melt and laugh and kiss him, tell him it’s okay. 

Wants Tommy to tell him it back. 

But he’s fooling himself with little boy’s dreams.

He feels himself shaking uncontrollably. He has no idea if it is from expectation or fear. “Kill me, you shuck coward. Prove you can do the right thing. Put me out of my misery.”  
  
“I can’t.”

And it makes him so angry. Why can’t Tommy do it ? Why can’t he ?

“Do it!”

_Do it do it do it do it do it do it please please oh please_

“I can’t!” 

_Oh, oh, Tommy... Don’t you see ?_

“Kill me or I’ll kill you. Kill me! Do it!”

_It’s the only way._

“Newt …”

“Do it before I become one of them!”

_I don’t want this, please._

He feels like walls are closing in. He feels like insanity is ripping every part of his mind like a starving animal. 

“I …”

“ _KILL ME!_ ” He screams. God, he wants it to be over. He wants to kiss Tommy and laugh with him. But there’s a ugly thing inside of his head and a monster instead of him. It’s over. 

Its always been over. They distracted themselves with kisses and sweet giggles when deep down they’ve always known the truth.

”Please, Tommy, please.” 

He looks for the last time at the boy he loves, and everything fades into darkness. 

 

 

**_It kills to know that you have been defeated_  
I see the wires pulling while you're breathing  
You knew you had a reason  
It killed you like diseases**

 

**Author's Note:**

> I almost cried writing this because it’s painful exploring Newt’s death from Newt’s point of view.  
> I hope you liked it, comments are very appreciated ^^ !


End file.
